


In a Hurricane of Frowns (We're Safe and Sound)

by sartiebodyshots



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 09:46:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6189673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sartiebodyshots/pseuds/sartiebodyshots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Zevran visits Sereda at Vigil's Keep, everyone from her Grey Wardens to the nobility misinterpret their relationship when Zevran continues to flirt with everyone.  While Zevran worries about the effect this could have on the already tenuous political situation, Sereda is more concerned with dismissing everyone's doubts- Zevran's included.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In a Hurricane of Frowns (We're Safe and Sound)

**Author's Note:**

> A fill for this kink meme prompt: http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/11571.html?thread=60713523#t60713523

“Tell me, mi amor, is there some part of the Grey Warden code that says you can only recruit the very attractive?” Zevran asks.

Sereda shakes her head, chuckling.  “Yes, Zevran.  The Joining culls the ugly.”

“I would believe it,” Zevran says.  He’s surveying the room where all her recruits are milling about.  “Except that one there- and Oghren, of course- you’ve managed to assemble a stunningly attractive group of Wardens.  I’m quite jealous that you have them at your beck and call.”

“That’s Justice- the spirit inhabiting the dead Warden that I told you about?  So I’m rather glad you don’t find him attractive,” Sereda says.  She pulls on his arm.  “How about I introduce you to everyone?”

“I  _ was _ looking forward to you giving me a private welcome, but meeting your new order would be fun, too,” Zevran says.  

“Don’t worry, I’ll have plenty of private welcoming for you later,” Sereda assures him. 

“Now, I’m even more excited.  Lead on, fair Warden!”

* * *

“Nathaniel, come here, please.  I want you to meet someone,” Sereda says, fingers interlaced with Zevran’s.

They meet near the middle of the audience chamber, Zevran sticking close to her side yet still gawking like she used to when she was first aboveground.  It’s endearing; then again, she finds most of the things Zevran does endearing.  That’s love for you.

“Nathaniel, this is Zevran.  He was one of my companions when we stopped the Blight,” Sereda says.  “My very favorite companion, in fact.”

It’s then she realized that they never really talked about what to call their relationship.  They’re committed to each other, for life, but not technically married anywhere.  She doesn’t even know if he’d want to make such a formal commitment (and marriages most places topside involve the  _ Chantry _ and the  _ Maker _ , two entities that she harbors a quiet dislike for.  She honors the Ancestors, thank you very much.) 

“And now, I have the great honor of warming the beautiful Warden’s bed when I am around, and writing her dirty letters when I am not,” Zevran supplies.  

“We should find a shorter way to put that,” Sereda murmurs, trying and failing to hide her smile.

Nathaniel grimaces.  “You need to refrain from putting that any way.”

Zevran laughs.  “My dear Warden said you were straightforward, but she neglected to mention you were so handsome as well.”

Nathaniel sputters a little, looking sideways at Sereda.  

“Don’t embarrass the poor man, Zevran,” Sereda chides.  “He’s just getting comfortable here again.”

“ _ Oh _ , this is Nathaniel  _ Howe _ ,” Zevran says.  

“Did you know my father?” Nathaniel asks.

Sereda tries not to wince.  Immediately after she let Zevran live, she had asked for every detail of his dealings in Ferelden.  He had mentioned that Rendon Howe had been his first contact.  She would understand it if Nathaniel was upset that she had killed his father but let one of the assassins he sent for her live.  It’s something she’d be willing to talk about, except they’re in the middle of a reception.  

“From what my dear Warden has said, that does not matter.  You are a much better man than he was,” Zevran says.  “She speaks quite highly of you.”

“I…” Nathaniel looks between her and Zevran before nodding a little.  “Thank you very much.”

“Of course,” Zevran says.

They chat a little more and then Sereda introduces him to the rest of the new Grey Wardens.  It’s good to introduce him to her new friends and just be around him again.  Spending so much time apart is difficult, so she wants to make the most of their time together.

* * *

Sereda watches as Zevran flits around the room, introducing himself to all the nobility.  She has a smile on her face and she feels utterly content.  It’s fun to watch him work the room; he’s got an irresistible charisma and it’s fun to watch everyone get charmed.  She’s fiddling with the earring he gave her; she keeps it on a pendant around her neck so he’s always nearby.  

“Doesn’t it bother you?” Nathaniel sidles up to her, offering her a drink.

She takes the drink and sips.  “What?”

“You know… Zevran,” Nathaniel says.  

“I’m glad he’s here.  Ancestors, I’ve missed him.  Why would he bother me?” Sereda asks, frowning up at him.

“Just the whole flirting with everyone thing,” Nathaniel says.  “He waxed poetic about running his hands through Anders’ hair, called Sigurn the most beautiful dead woman he’s ever seen, and whispered  _ something _ in Velanna’s ear that made her giggle.  I don’t think I’ve ever heard Velanna giggle before.  It was disturbing.”

“It’s harmless.  He likes to flirt with people, and he’s a charming man,” Sereda says, shrugging.  “And Velanna has a cute giggle.”

“We’re worried for you,” Nathaniel says.

“We?” Sereda asks. 

“The other Wardens,” Nathaniel says.  “You’re, uh, important to us, you know?  And if he’s not treating you right, we would strongly object.”

Sereda laughs, patting his arm reassuringly.  “That’s very nice, but I love Zevran and he loves me.  Everything is just… background.  None of you have anything to object to, strongly or otherwise.”

“Okay, but if you ever change your mind, Warden-Commander, just say the word,” Nathaniel says.

“I’m not going to,” Sereda says.  “So you should tell everyone else that Zevran and I are both completely happy and in love with each other.  If any of them try to confront Zevran about this, they’re going to be very unhappy Wardens.”

“Yes, Ser,” Nathaniel says.  “I’ll let them know.”

* * *

“So!  How did the new Grey Wardens like me?” Zevran asks as they walk back to her bedchamber. 

“Well…” Sereda bites her lip and looks up at him.  “They’re slightly concerned.”

“About me?” Zevran asks.  “I thought I was quite charming, as always.”

“They think that you’re going to break my heart and run away with someone else,” Sereda says.  “I set them right, don’t worry.”

Zevran laughs.  “As if another could ever win my heart as you have.”

“I’d like to see someone try,” Sereda says.  

“I am glad they’re concerned, though.  It’s good that your Wardens care for you,” Zevran says.  

“That’s what I thought, too,” Sereda says.  “But if any of them say anything to you-”

“Don’t worry, I can handle an overly concerned Grey Warden,” Zevran soothes.  “I have had more practice than anyone.”

Sereda snorts.  “When have you ever been able to handle me?”

“My dearest Warden, I handle you every night when we’re together.  Sometimes more than once.  And sometimes during the day!” Zevran jokes, leaning down to fondle her ass.

Sereda jumps a little bit in surprise, laughing.  “Okay, okay, I’ll stop worrying.”

“Good,” Zevran says.  “Because we have some private welcoming to get to.”

* * *

Zevran is enjoying his time at Vigil’s Keep.  He loves his Grey Warden, and her new friends seem like fine folk, too.  Given what Sereda has told him about the nobles, he’s a little more reserved around them.  The whole trying to assassinate his love certainly made him suspicious of them.  The irony isn’t lost on him, but that doesn’t lessen his concern.

“I have some Arlessa business to take care of today.  Can you find a way to entertain yourself until I’m done?” Sereda asks.  She’s breathtakingly beautiful when she just wakes up, eyes half closed and snuggling against him sleepily.  If only they had more mornings like this.  It’s especially nice in an actual bed.

“I could come with you,” Zevran says.

“If it was fighting darkspawn, sure, but unfortunately, it’s just listening to noble complaints,” Sereda says.  “There’s too much to see around here for me to ask you to stay cooped up all day.  It’s so boring.”

“But the most beautiful sight in all the arling is right here,” Zevran says, stroking her cheek.  

“Now I want to ignore my nobles and stay here with you in bed all day,” Sereda says.  “It’s so not fair.”

“I wouldn’t object,” Zevran says, batting his eyelashes at her.  

“Alas, duty calls,” Sereda says, tracing his tattoo affectionately.

“I’ll look around the keep, but if you’re still in there around lunchtime, I’m coming in after you,” Zevran says.  “I must keep my love safe from the nobles threatening to bore her to death.”

“My dashing hero,” Sereda says warmly.

She’s the first person who ever thought there was more to him than a pretty face and a pair of hands that were talented at killing and lovemaking.  Sometimes he doubts he deserves the love and faith she puts in him, but when she looks at him so adoringly, it fills him with surety.  

All he can do is lean forward and press his lips to her forehead.  

Zevran is quite reluctant to part from his Sereda, but she pulls him down gently for a kiss and then shoos him on his way.  It probably is good for him to see a little bit more of her keep.  She wants him to admire the sights, but he’s looking for potential weak points should another, larger conspiracy against her brew.

“Zevran, right?” a feminine voice comes from behind him as he examines one of the windows.  

He turns around to see one of the noblewomen from the reception the night before.  “Ah, it’s the beautiful Lady Packton.  Good morning.”

“Oh, I hope it will be,” Lady Packton says, stepping into his personal space.  

“Plans?” Zevran asks, deftly taking a step backwards.  He doesn’t particularly care, but it’s always best to be polite, especially when dealing with nobles.  She had been friendly enough when they met, after all. 

“I’d like to show you around.  The dwarf will be busy for some time, dealing with her affairs,” Lady Packton says.

The blatant disrespect towards Sereda puts Zevran’s teeth on edge, and all goodwill he felt towards her has evaporated instantly.  

“I believe her title is Warden-Commander, or the Arlessa.  I suppose that Hero of Ferelden or Paragon or Champion are also applicable,” Zevran points out.  He keeps his tone almost aggressively light.  “She was also a princess- I’m not sure if that title still applies.  It’s so hard to keep her titles straight; she’s so important, after all.”

“You’re right, of course,” Lady Packton says, faltering a bit. 

“And I’m afraid that our lovely Warden-Commander has already given me a tour.  She does live here, after all, and she was quite welcoming,” Zevran says.  

“Perhaps I should show you the room I’m staying in.  It’s more interesting than anything she could have shown you,” Lady Packton says, voice dropping sultry and low.

“While that is quite an offer, Lady Packton, my lovely Warden would be quite unhappy about such an affair,” Zevran says with strained politeness.

Lady Packton rests a hand on his arm, squeezing.  “I’ll keep it secret if you do.”

Zevran knocks her hand away.  “Perhaps you did not hear, but I am quite happily taken by the Warden.  Now, if you’ll excuse me…”  

Lady Packton frowns.  “Aren’t you just her little whore?  I doubt she’ll care.  You were getting cozy with everyone else last night, after all, and she just watched.”

Zevran turns on his heel and walks away from the lady hurriedly, for once his quick wit failing him.  First the Wardens last night and now Lady Packton.  It had been easy to laugh at Sereda’s overprotective friends, but now the nobles are devaluing their relationship and they certainly don’t care about Sereda.

Does everyone think he’s just… nothing?  A pretty face that Sereda just keeps around for sex?  He can’t blame them, but he’s worried about how he might reflect on Sereda.  

Maybe he’s overreacting, though.  It’s one noblewoman.  That hardly means anything.  

But Zevran knows how to find out how more of them feel.  They’ll be exiting and entering the throne room, and he can find somewhere to hide and overhear them.  He presses himself into a corner, keeping himself hidden.  

It doesn’t take long for him to wish he hadn’t.  He can only hear snatches of conversations, but that’s more than enough.

“-parading around with some filthy little elf-“

“How much gold do you think it costs her?  D’you think it’s cheaper for humans?”

“At least Howe had some class-“

“-can blame him?  She’s not much to look at.  Dwarves are-”

“If she’s going to play Arlessa, she should get a proper Arl.”  

“Clever, for an elf, using her for a bit of power-“

“A dwarf and an elf, what are the blasted Wardens going to think up next?”

Suddenly, he doesn’t feel like busting up her public meeting anymore.  Coming here was a mistake.  He knows that things are tricky for Sereda with her nobles already, and all he’s done is make her look worse.  

If they knew the details of his life, their reaction would only be more severe.  He’s never been ashamed of his past, and he still isn’t, really, but he’s also never had to worry about how it would affect someone he cares about.  Zevran’s never cared about anyone outside the Crows before, and never like this.  They can tease, taunt, and harass him all they want, but not Sereda.

Zevran makes a special note of all the people who had derogatory things about Sereda.  While he can’t actually assassinate them because Sereda would frown on that, he may use his time in Ferelden to dig up dirt on them and forward it to Sereda for her use.  Or else keep it for himself because she’s too good of a person to blackmail someone for her own personal gain.  

* * *

Sereda is waiting for Zevran to come busting into the main hall, all flirt and bravado.  Maybe he’ll get inappropriately handsy with her in front of nobles.  Ancestors know that they could use a good shock every once in awhile.  It’ll probably give Seneschal Varel a migraine, but that’s a risk that she’s willing to take.

But lunchtime comes and goes and there’s no Zevran.  Eventually, she adjourns for the afternoon, sending many disgruntled folks away.  She’s not worried about him- there’s nothing that’s likely to hurt him around Vigil’s Keep- but she is curious.  It’s not like him to stand her up the few times they actually get to see each other.

“Have you seen Zevran?” Sereda asks Anders when she passes him in the corridor.  She’s checked everywhere where she thinks he could be, and Zevran is nowhere to be found.

“The flirty assassin is loose in the keep and you don’t know where he is?  Great,” Anders says dryly.

Sereda raises an eyebrow.  She’s honestly not in the mood to listen to jibes about Zevran; she’s heard a few nasty whispers already, and she’s not going to listen to it from someone she generally respects and likes.  

“The apostate mage wanted for murder is loose in the keep and nobody is watching him?  Great,” she says with an edge in her voice.  “Maybe I’ll do what everyone says is wise and keep you under lock and key when we’re not in the field.  Who cares about my judgment of you as a generally decent man?”

“Okay, okay.  I get your point.  Zevran seems like a good fellow,” Anders says.  “He was quite complimentary of Ser-Pounce-a-Lot  _ and  _ my hair.”

“If you see him, let him know I’m looking for him,” Sereda says.

“Will do,” Anders says.

* * *

Zevran is up in some high tower where he doesn’t think anyone will find him.  He needs to be alone for a little while, plan out his next move.  It’d leave Sereda terribly upset if he just up and left, but Zevran also knows that if she sees him, she’ll know something is wrong.    

He doesn’t hear the footsteps coming up the stairs until it’s too late.  They’re not Sereda’s footsteps, though, so he puts on his happy mask.  It’s easy to fool other people, especially humans.  

“Zevran?  What are you doing up here?” It’s Anders, one of Sereda’s Grey Wardens.  A generally congenial fellow, who kind of reminds him of Alistair.  He reminds Sereda, too; Zevran can tell by how she looks at him, with just the barest hint of sadness.

“There’s an excellent view up here!” Zevran says with false cheer.

Anders squints at him.  “Almost no one comes to this tower.”

“You’re here,” Zevran observes.  

“I practice my magic up here.  Magic makes a lot of people uncomfortable.  The Warden-Commander does her best to reprimand anyone who says anything, but…” Anders shrugs.  “If I practice up here, it’s one less thing she has to deal with.”

Zevran squints.  “From what she’s written me, you don’t seem the type to hide yourself away to put other people’s minds at ease or make their lives easier.”

“I can imagine,” Anders says, laughing.  “I don’t, usually.  But she’s protected me from the Templars more than once.  I respect the Warden-Commander, and I’m glad to be here rather than dead or at the Circle.  I didn’t have a choice- and if I did I probably wouldn’t’ve chosen slow death and hellish nightmares- but working under her is the best not-choice that’s ever been made for me.”

Zevran has to hold back a retort about also enjoying working under Sereda- he’s trying to be less himself to make things easier for her.  So he just nods, glad that she has such loyal subordinates.  It’s not surprising, though; he’s seen firsthand how much loyalty she can inspire.

“Oh!  The Warden-Commander wanted me to tell you that she’s looking for you.  That was some time ago, so I’m not sure where she is now, but I’m sure she’s still looking,” Anders says.  

Zevran sighs internally.  Of course she is.  “Thank you, Anders.”

Hoping to avoid Sereda while visiting her in her own keep was, in retrospect, a stupid hope.

* * *

“There you are!” Sereda calls out when she finally sees Zevran turn the corner. 

Running to him would be a little too undignified, considering the people around them, so she settles for her most confident stride.  It’s fast and it keeps people out of her way.

When she reaches him, Sereda leans up to indicate she wants a kiss, and Zevran leans down to kiss her carefully.  It’s a shockingly chaste kiss, and when she gets a good look at his face, she can tell something is wrong, even though he’s smiling widely.

“Everything okay?” Sereda murmurs.

“Of course!” Zevran says with far too much cheer.

Sereda wishes she could talk to him right now, but they have to go to dinner first.  It’s some important Chantry feast day, which means a formal dinner.  She doesn’t understand why she has to go, but she knows she does.  

When she found out that Zevran would be here, she was almost looking forward to it.  Sure, she'd rather spend her time with him alone or with her friends, but sitting at the head of the table with Zevran beside her promised to be more fun than a normal Chantry day feast.  

But something is clearly wrong with Zevran, and it runs deeper than Sereda had initially thought.  He smiles and is polite all through dinner, but he’s flat.  There’s no wit, no jokes, no flirting.  In fact, he doesn’t talk at all unless someone talks to him first.  It’s incredibly unnerving to sit next to the man she loves and not really have him there.

Sereda does the best she can to soothe him at the table, but there’s not much that she can do.  She slips her hand into his- or she tries.  He pulls his hand away from hers, always discreet about it.  

She looks over at him questioningly, but Zevran just smiles emptily at her.  It makes her chest ache, and she withdraws her hand.  All she wants is to talk to Zevran and find out what’s wrong with him.

Finally, the feast has gone on long enough that no one will mind if she leaves, so she makes their excuses and takes Zevran back up to her bedchamber.  He’s silent the whole way, no lewd comments or excited predictions about the sex they’re going to have tonight.  

When they make it to her chamber, they both just look at each other.  She’s hoping he’ll offer an explanation, but none seems to be forthcoming.

“What’s wrong?” Sereda asks.

“I am fine,” Zevran says, not quite looking at her.

“You don’t have to talk to me, if you really don’t want to, but at least don’t lie to me,” Sereda says.  “I can read you better than that, and I’m scared.”

“Scared?” That seems to give Zevran pause.

“After we started getting close to each other, you used to get this look in your eye whenever I came to talk to you.  You were afraid that I was going to make you leave.  I haven’t seen that look in a long time; I honestly thought I never would again,” Sereda says.  She steps forward and runs her fingers along his arm.  “Zevran, I love you, and you’ll always have a place here, at least as long as I’m Warden-Commander.”

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have a place at Vigil’s Keep,” Zevran says, “and perhaps you should make me leave.”

“What happened?” Sereda asks.  “Did someone say something?”

“I’m the orphaned son of a whore and a former Antivan Crow, who flirts with almost everyone I meet,” Zevran says, as if that’s all the explanation she needs.

“I know all of that,” Sereda says.  “And if you didn’t have to dismantle the Crows, I’d offer you a permanent place here.  Both because you’re very good at what you do and because I miss you when you’re gone.”

Zevran shakes his head.  

Sereda pulls him gently to the bed, mostly so she can get at eye level with him.  She cups his face and makes him look at her.  “Please talk to me.  Or at least tell me who I need to intimidate for upsetting you.”

“I love you, and I don’t want to hurt you or make your time here more difficult,” Zevran says.  “I overheard some of the nobles talking, and they had some strong opinions about your choice of lover.”

“Zevran, they have strong opinions about everything I do.  Nobles everywhere have strong opinions, most of which should be ignored,” Sereda says, running her thumbs over his cheekbones.  “They’re probably just jealous of how handsome and fun you are, anyway.  Most of them are quite boring.”

That makes a bolt of shame flash across Zevran’s face, and now Sereda is really scared.  She didn’t even think that Zevran knew the meaning of shame, honestly.  

“Something else happened,” Sereda says softly.  “You can tell me.”

Zevran sighs, breath warm on her face.  “They don’t think we’re in a real relationship.  They think you pay me or that I’m using you for power or that I’m disloyal to you.  One of the noblewomen just assumed I’d have sex with her, like I didn’t care about you!  Look, you have enough to deal with without nobles picking at your relationship.  I can go, and they’ll forget about me.”

Sereda idly wonders if she really  _ needs _ the nobles.  She’s tolerated a lot of inanity from them, but she doesn’t want to tolerate them making Zevran feel like this.  “Since when do you care what anyone has to say about you?  You brush off judgment better than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“They’re not just talking about me!  They’re talking about you, too!” Zevran exclaims.  “They think you’re unloved, undesirable, and who knows what else!  And they think that because of me!”

Oh.  Now the pieces start to fall into place for Sereda.  “Zevran, I know the truth.  I know that no matter how many people you flirt with, I’m the only person you love.  I know that whenever we’re apart, you want to get back to me as much as I want to get back to you.  That’s what matters.  Our love is what matters, not what anyone else might say.”

“You’re the most important person in all of Ferelden, not just to me, but to the people.  You should have the best,” Zevran says with resignation.  “Not someone who is nothing and will never be accepted by your nobles.”

“You’re right,” Sereda says, shrugging.  “I helped stop the Blight before it even really began.  I’ve got so many titles now that I forget some of the lesser ones.  It’s obnoxious at this point.  I definitely deserve the best.”

Zevran tries to get up before she’s done, but she keeps a firm hand on his arm.  He could break free if he really wanted, but he stays on the bed.  She wishes he would look at her.

“You  _ are _ the best, Zevran.  You are so much better than any of them who are out there passing judgment on us,” Sereda says.  “If they don’t want to see that, that’s their problem, not ours.  You could never be nothing, not to me.  If I deserve the best, then I deserve you.  More importantly, you’re who I want, who I love.”

Zevran smiles softly, and looks a little less like he’s worried about being kicked out.  Good.  “I don’t want to make your life here more complicated.”

“And I want to spend time with the person I love,” Sereda says.  “Preferably without him suggesting that I go find someone else.”

Zevran snorts.  “That was terrible of me.  It would break my heart to see you with another.”

“Good,” Sereda says, stroking his face.  “You’re the only one for me, and if anyone has a problem with that, they should talk to me.  And my really big swords.”

“I am sorry that I was foolish earlier,” Zevran says.  “I have never had to worry about how my past or my actions could affect someone I care about.”

“You don’t have to apologize.  They need to apologize,” Sereda says with venom in her voice.  

Zevran leans forward and presses his lips against hers.  He’s slow and sweet as he cards his fingers through her hair.  She pulls him into her lap, keeping one hand on his hip and the other on his back.  

“One last thing…” Sereda says, slipping her hand under his shirt to stroke his spine, skin on skin.  There’s nothing better than feeling Zevran under her fingers.  “I want to know who you overheard talking about you.”

Zevran raises an eyebrow.  “Perhaps I’ve forgotten.”

“My love, you’re a skilled assassin who has started dismantling the most feared assassin guild in Thedas.  You want me to believe that you’ve forgotten a few names?” Sereda asks. 

“Now, my dearest Warden, you’re just flattering me.  But I was planning to investigate our noble friends myself,” Zevran says.

“I want to know,” Sereda says.  “Some of these people are swearing fealty and clamoring for favors while also devaluing who I hold most dear.  There’s not too much I can do, but I can make sure not to do them any favors.”

“It  _ would  _ be unfortunate for you to aid them,” Zevran says.

Sereda presses her lips to the juncture of his jawline and neck.  “I agree.”

Zevran groans.  “That’s distinctly unfair, my beautiful Warden.”

“I know,” Sereda says, sucking gently.  

“You’re going to make me beg, yes?” Zevran says, voice growing husky.

“Tonight, I’m going to take excellent care of you,” Sereda says, running her fingers up and down his spine.  Her love has had a difficult day, and she wants to pleasure him to help him feel better.

“You always do,” Zevran says, whimpering a little.

* * *

Zevran wakes up first the next morning.  It’s a pleasant wake up, Sereda’s arms wrapped around him loosely.  Her face is buried in the back of his neck, her breath tickling him.  If only they could stay in bed all day.

Sereda made him feel better about the things he had overheard yesterday.  She’s capable of taking care of herself against anything these pathetic nobles can throw at her, and as long as they love each other, it doesn’t honestly matter what they have to say.  

He turns so he’s facing her, careful to avoid jostling her awake.  The nobles must be mad not to appreciate her beauty.  Aside from her mere physical beauty, there’s also the air of strength and confidence that permeates everything she does.  

Eventually, she opens her eyes and she smiles at him.  “Hello.”

“G’morning,” Zevran murmurs back. 

“Are you feeling better?” Sereda asks.

Zevran nods.  “I’m just glad to be here with you.”

She’s got a look in her eye.  It’s mischievous and light, but there’s also steel underneath.  Somebody is going to have an uncomfortable day.  He doesn’t envy her nobles.

“I thought that we could have some fun with the nobles,” Sereda says sweetly, and Zevran knows he’s about to agree even if it doesn’t involve their slow murder.  

“How?”

“I’ve never actually used the thrones in the main room before, but I think today seems like a good day to start.  We sit up there, pass judgment on the nobles, and truly get under their skin,” Sereda says.  

“I would love to judge your nobles with you,” Zevran says.

Sereda beams at him.  “I don’t think listening to them complain about fence posts and ancient land disputes has ever been so appealing.  Honestly, listening to them carry on, you’d think that we were in a time of peace and prosperity, not recovering from being on the brink of a Blight and all out civil war.”

“Sounds like this will be a delightful day,” Zevran says.

“It will be with you there,” Sereda assures him.  

* * *

Zevran pushes away the nervousness as he walks beside Sereda.  They’re walking through the crowd of nobles who are lined up to speak with her, and the nobles are whispering, presumably about them.  

She walks with such confidence and grace, despite the withering glares she’s receiving.  It reminds him of when they were in Orzammar.  The dwarves hadn’t been subtle about their disdain for her, but all she had done was stand straight and ignore the whispers that followed them around, even though he knows they upset her.

Just like she did down in the depths of Orzammar, there reaches a point where she looks up at him for a second.  Back then, he hadn’t understood, but now he knows that she’s drawing strength and reassurance from him.  

It’s still kind of strange to him.  She’s all solid strength, like stone.  He’s more trickery and charm.  From what he can tell, her looking to him for strength would be like him asking her to help him pick out a poison.  But she does it anyway.  

Sereda sits proudly on the throne, and he sits beside her, trying to emulate her regality.  The mutters from the crowd bring a smile to both of their faces.  It’s likely that the last person to sit in her seat is Rendon Howe, which is an interesting thought.

“Who is first?” Sereda asks, tapping her fingers on the arm of the throne with an imperiousness borne of her royal upbringing.

“Uh, Ser, what is  _ he _ doing?” It’s Ser Timothy, and he was one of the people Zevran overheard yesterday.  

“I greatly value Zevran’s input,” Sereda says.  “While he’s here, I thought we could all benefit from his wisdom.”

“His wisdom?” Ser Timothy asks skeptically.

“My lady, there are certain standards,” Lady Packton interjects.  “You are, of course, a great hero to us all!  But this… elf doesn’t have any authority here.  He holds no title or rank.”  

Lady Packton glares up at the both of them with a barely disguised hatred, and Zevran looks back with a wide smile on his face.  He’s confident that his beautiful Warden will give him plenty of reason to smile.

It surprises even him when she gets out of her throne and starts to pace.  Her shoulders are tense with anger, and he’d be terrified if it was directed at him.  

“Zevran may not have a formal title, but he speaks with my full authority, and I would suggest that you all learn to speak to him and about him with an appropriate amount of respect,” Sereda says harshly.

“He’s not trustworthy!  Did you know that he was an assassin?” Ser Timothy asks.  

Sereda turns around and looks at him with mock surprise.  “ _ Was _ ?  Zevran, you never told me you changed jobs!”

“I change positions often, my lovely Warden.  You know that better than anyone else,” Zevran says, grinning.  

“You knew?” Ser Timothy asks, frowning.  

“About Zevran’s positions?  Of course,” Sereda says, turning back to the nobles.  

“You are making a mockery of your title!” Lady Packton says.  “Placing a dirty assassin in such an honored place.”

“While you and many of your noble friends were plotting against the crown and against the Grey Wardens, Zevran was by my side.  He watched my back, stood with me even when he disagreed with my actions, and turned his back on his former employers, even when returning to them would’ve been far easier,” Sereda says, staring down each of the nobles in turn.  “In the end, he fought with me through Denerim, to the very top of Fort Drakon, where we fought the archdemon, side by side as equals.  Without him, we could very well be overrun by darkspawn; your actions would have led us to complete ruin.  So if Zevran isn’t worthy to sit on the throne and advise me, certainly few of you are worthy of your titles.”

Sereda is breathing heavily, clearly ready for someone to defy her.  Both Ser Timothy and Lady Packton have stepped back, even if they don’t look happy about it.  

“You will all treat Zevran with the respect he deserves from now on or there will be dire consequences.  Now, does anyone have any-“

She’s interrupted by scattered bits of applause from the back of the hall.  Zevran looks to see where the applause is coming from, and he sees Sereda’s Grey Wardens clapping.  A few of the nobles join in the applause, too, even if it’s more halfhearted on their end.

“They’re clapping for you, too,” Sereda murmurs as she takes her throne.  

Zevran frowns a little.  “No.  They are your Wardens and your nobles, my lovely Warden-Commander.”  

“And you’re the one I was talking about,” Sereda says, squeezing his arm.  “You’re the person who fought beside me and helped me.  They’re clapping for you.”

Being the focus of this kind of positive attention isn’t something that Zevran had ever expected.  If anyone ever applauded him, he naturally assumed it would involve his dramatic death.  Generally, it’s poor tradecraft for an assassin to be at the front of a crowd in this way, but this is special.

“Okay, so!” Zevran says cheerily after the applause has quieted.  “Who has matters to bring before me and the beautiful Warden-Commander?  If anyone wishes to anger her again, I assume that it would go poorly for you, but go ahead.”

Sereda chuckles beside him.  “Zevran is right, as he so often is.”

And thus begins what Zevran is certain is the most interesting meeting that Vigil’s Keep has seen in a long time.

* * *

“I don’t know why you complain about these meetings,” Zevran says airily when they’re safely ensconced in their room.  “I thought it was great fun.”

Sereda laughs and pulls Zevran over to the window seat.  She loves to sit here.  The view is excellent; she can see a great deal of the keep, as well as the water beyond the walls.  It’s moderately terrifying, being up so high, but she loves it, like she loves so much of the aboveground world.

“Usually, I don’t have someone constantly complimenting my beauty, wisdom, and strength while making my nobles so deliciously uncomfortable,” Sereda says.  She curls up in his lap.  “It’s so good to have you here.”

“That is a shame!  They should properly appreciate your many excellent attributes here,” Zevran says.

She’s leaning against him, so she can feel it when he talks.  Even though Zevran is so lithe, he still feels so steady behind her.  

“I’m not going to argue about that,” Sereda says, shaking her head.  “Sometimes, I miss when it was us and our little band of misfits wandering through the world sometimes.  No politics, just people bickering with each other.”

“I miss being with you all the time.  This distance is quite unpleasant,” Zevran says.  “I even miss Oghren’s smells.”

Sereda laughs.  “You wanna take him with you?”

“I only want to whisk you away, mi amor.  You can keep Oghren’s smells,” Zevran says, kissing her hair.  “Thank you.”

“You don’t have anything to thank me for,” Sereda says.

“You defended me to your nobles, despite the potential problems that could bring you.  You didn’t have to.  I could’ve just laughed at them at that point,” Zevran murmurs.  

“I needed to say every word,” Sereda says.  She leans so she can see his troubled face.  “You’re too important not to defend.”

“I…” Zevran frowns and shakes his head.

“What?” Sereda asks.  

“In the Crows, everyone is disposable.  Perhaps the guild masters are slightly less disposable, but they will inevitably be killed and replaced.  It is the way of things.  And now…” Zevran laughs.  “Here I am, with you, and I am no longer disposable.  It is not something I believed possible.”

It feels good to hear him admit his own importance, maybe even better than when he finally admitted he loves her.  He’s come such a long way since they first met on that long, winding road.  They both have.  For all her faith in people, she never would’ve suspected they would end up here.  

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Sereda murmurs.  She turns so she’s straddling Zevran, running her fingers along his jaw gently.  

Zevran wraps his hands around hers.  His fingers are so much longer than hers are, but also so much slimmer.  It used to make her feel weird, how out of proportion Zevran is by dwarf standards, but now it feels like the most natural thing in the world.  No one fits her better than Zevran does.

“You will never have to find out.  I am yours,” Zevran says softly.  

“And I’m yours, Zevran,” Sereda says.  


End file.
